


that has such people in't

by sophieisgod



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-12
Updated: 2010-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophieisgod/pseuds/sophieisgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the prompt: the kids aren't alright</p>
            </blockquote>





	that has such people in't

She looks like fucking Tinkerbell or some shit, although what Tinkerbell would be doing shivering on a New York sidewalk with a cigarette dangling from her mouth, he couldn’t say. Actually, it’s not entirely out of the realms of possibility, when he thinks about it; Tink was always kind of a badass.

She’s smoking, so it’s entirely reasonable that he asks her for a light; she says sure, but her fingers are clumsy on the lighter.

“It’s cold,” she says, like, no shit, it’s February, but her half-smile is really cute and her vowels are really British so he buys her a drink. Two drinks, even. She raises an eyebrow at his name and doesn’t ask what it stands for.

She’s an actor, too, what are the odds. She’s finished some crazy version of _The Tempest_ , in, like, Hawaii, and he knows that one, he wants to laugh because okay, not Tinkerbell, but still a fucking Disney princess.

“Ariel, right?”

She swallows, shakes her head. “Miranda.” Fuck.

She’s pissed because Miramax has folded and nobody knows whether this thing’s even going to get a release; he says it must be a confusing time for her, what with Helen Mirren playing her dad and all. He likes her laugh. She’s in New York because the guy actually playing Ariel is in something off-Broadway. He’s not going to see it.

She says she does radio back home, she’s played the same part for years. She leans across the table, so he does the same, and she lets loose with the most bizarre fucking accent he’s ever heard (“Fuck, that’s just wrong!”); apparently she passes for a farmer when no one can see her face.

He buys her another drink.

They go to her hotel because it’s nearer. She says she likes his tattoos, traces them with her tongue until he pushes her back on the bed. She reaches up to grab the headboard and her eyes below him are fierce and bright.

He thinks her heels have left bruises on his ass.

They have another drink, from the minibar; she has to go, she’ll miss the play. She winds her scarf round her neck, shakes his hand, bites his earlobe.

If you’re ever in London, she says in the elevator, and he nods. He doesn’t have her number. She kisses him once on the mouth, hard, before she gets in the cab.


End file.
